


The Other One

by eliza_doolittlethings



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock TV, Sherlock and Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Mollcroft, Sherlock AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliza_doolittlethings/pseuds/eliza_doolittlethings
Summary: Molly Hooper is on holiday and runs into Mycroft in a museum. As she gets to know the elder Holmes better, unexpected adventures and revelations lead to disastrous results.
Relationships: mycroft/molly
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	1. A Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I had read a fanfic about Sherrinford being the elder sibling, who dies when they are still children [as always my memory fails me, sorry; hope to search my history and add the name - it was a brilliant piece of work] and Mycroft's 'You know what happened to the other one' stuck in my mind. This is my feeble attempt at portraying a Sherlock AU. Hope you can picture the atmosphere as I see it.

#  [ The Other One ](https://elizasmarkgatissblog.tumblr.com/post/188566158347/eventhorizon451-for-us-folks-crooked-house-with)

###  **_Chapter 1 - A Chance Meeting_ **

“Miss Hooper,” the clear voice, softly spoken, carried across the Museum Hall.

Molly’s whole body jerked and trembled a little. Surprised by the reaction she turned half way with a bit of trepidation unable to place the voice that felt so familiar yet strange to her ears.

Standing next to a bronze bust was the Holmes whom she’d met infrequently in the morgue, Sherlock’s older brother, Mycroft.

Staring at the statuesque figure, her eyes were drawn to the figurehead behind him and she stifled a giggle.

The scrutinising sky blue eyes became cold and pale, the Ice Man persona taking over. What marred the iron like features was the two day old stubble and a pair of spectacles, giving Mycroft a more scholarly and romantic look.

‘Romantic’? Molly chastised herself for getting carried away in a Hall filled with busts and paintings of poets and writers as she fidgeted with her blouse sleeve.

Annoyed by his brother’s pathologist friend’s girly manner, the Ice Man made a cursory nod and a weak smile in order to move on to the next exhibit, but Molly was standing in front of it.

Licking his lips in controlled irritation, Mycroft said, “Excuse me,” as he made to grab her arms to move her physically aside. But Molly, who had understood that her presence was a hindrance had begun to move in the opposite direction.

The result was catastrophic. Mycroft almost lost his balance toppling forward, while Molly who had swiftly moved aside knocked over the glass case housing the bronze bust in the process.

The government official was quick on his feet, regaining his balance, yanked at Molly who was in danger of falling over the glass pieces, while muttering, “Oh for God's sakes! You are just as bad as my brother, aren’t you?”

Standing there examining the wreckage, his hands still holding Molly by her upper arms, Mycroft disapproving look was quite frightening.

“I, ..” Molly squirmed unable to utter a single word or move out of the Ice Man’s grip.

Mycroft trained his eyes at her person, examining her every inch as he asked, “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head in answer.

“Well, clear the area, now,” he ordered, “I shall take care of this.”

Molly watched Mycroft walk away. The Ice Man stopped after a couple of strides, turned back and stared at her, raising an eloquent eyebrow questioningly.

Molly rushed out not glancing back as she heard shouts and a commotion.


	2. Apology Unaccepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly is herself as is Mycroft. And yet, a spark is kindled.

###  [ **_Chapter 2 - Apology Unaccepted_ ** ](https://elizasmarkgatissblog.tumblr.com/post/190572341167/the-other-one#notes)

Molly waited at the mouth of an alley a few blocks down the road from the museum. She realised that he didn’t want her to be incriminated, although it was just an accident but she was ready to .. Ready for what? she thought. Pay for the destruction of monumental artifacts? Could she even afford to?

Hugging herself in the cold Scottish dusk she watched the exit of the museum, trying to keep a low profile, blending into the shadows.

Mycroft appeared at the top of the steps talking to an aged man who looked of some importance, officious and haughty. The man was definitely in a rage, gesticulating with his hands. Mycroft seemed to placate him with a few strong words, who huffed, turned around and went back inside.

Immediately the Ice Man took out his phone and made a call, while gliding down the steps, coming to a halt next to a lamp post. Molly watched transfixed by the fading sunlight and the lamp’s brilliance, that gave the older Holmes a glow.

Becoming aware that he was determinedly walking towards her while pocketing the phone, Molly slipped into the shadows of the alley and held her breath.

“Miss Hooper. Would you be kind enough to walk with me?” Mycroft asked, a little too politely.

The sarcasm in the gentle tone was not lost on her. Nodding her head in reply, she whispered, “Yes, of course,” and walked out onto the street.

“I have taken care of the matter. It will be prudent for you to stay away from the Museum in the near future. The guards seem to have noticed you hovering around the displays. They even identified your clothes.”

“My clothes?” Molly asked, perplexed, looking down at her green jumper and red dress under it, then down to her black stockings and boots.

Mycroft followed her eyes and shrugged his shoulders, his mouth pouting. Molly never felt so humiliated in her life until then; her silence being welcomed by the government official.

The pair had walked almost half a mile and now stood next to a deserted park.

Mycroft glanced at the girl next to him who looked tiny, not from her short stature, but from the guilt that was eating into her.

“Well, these things happen to the best of us. I suppose both of us are equally at fault in this fiasco. You should go back to your room. Try to get some rest. Good night Miss Hooper,” Mycroft stated in one breath and turned around to walk back.

“I am sorry,” Molly whispered haltingly.

Mycroft had moved a step and stood still not withdrawing his leg, then replied, “Apology unaccepted,” and walked away.

Molly stood looking at the tall figure retreating down the street and couldn’t recognise the man; something was different, she thought.

“Umbrella!” she exclaimed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read it at least five times and still there could be too many mistakes. Sorry. It's just a fantasy after all!


	3. Chapter 3

###  [ **_Chapter 3 - Undesired Company_ ** ](https://elizasmarkgatissblog.tumblr.com/post/190826135387/the-other-one#notes)

**_[next day]_ **

Molly returned to the garden and took a seat by the empty pond. She had planned this holiday in the hopes of studying the relics in the museum and writing a paper on evolution and pathology - a study in _eugenics_ , her favourite subject.

The whole plan was scuttled by her nervousness.

Looking back at last night’s accident, she knew that Mycroft was right. But his mocking tone was like a dagger that sunk deeper each time she recalled their interaction.

What did she care how Mycroft thought of her?

Chastising herself, Molly took out her phone and searched for other museums in the area. All were a few miles away, making it hard for her to make time to visit them. She had only 4 days of leave. This was her second day. 

Unable to decide fast, she did an ‘eeny meeny miny moe’ and chose one of them. Decision made, she found the fastest route by bus and reached her destination in 5 hours.

The sunlight was fading early, being autumn. Molly had had a light breakfast. Now hungry, dejected and at sea regarding where to start, she looked around on alighting from the bus and saw a cafe at the corner. Looked grand. Hesitating for a second, she decided to splurge on a coffee and snack.

A quick nourishment before entering the museum, she thought.

Placing her order and paying for it, Molly sat herself in a corner by the window, realising that this was too posh for her, trying to become invisible. The waitress placed her coffee and croissant in front of her. Looking up to give a thankful smile she noticed a familiar silhouette loom in the entrance. 

Eyes wide, Molly huddled into herself and busied with reading about the museum on her phone, her coffee untouched.

* * *

“Miss Hooper,” the voice behind her made Molly close her eyes in consternation. “We must be having the same agenda from the looks of it.”

Walking around, Mycroft placed his hand on the opposite chair and enquired wordlessly with a tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow. Molly smiled weakly and shrugged her shoulders.

“Thank you,” he replied, while taking the seat.

Molly took a quick glance at the figure and surprised, stared. The older Holmes was wearing a forest green jumper, his beard had grown thicker, a red glow, lighting his face, but the glasses were absent.

The waitress rushed to give him a menu card and waited patiently.

Molly watched her subservient stance and turned away, glaring at her phone that had gone to screensaver mode.

After placing his order, Mycroft sat back, crossed his legs, one knee over the other and rested his right arm on the window sill glancing outside.

Molly couldn’t help taking peeks at the man whom she would never have recognised if not for yesterday’s incident.

Ten minutes had passed and Mycroft’s order was served.

Molly lifted her cup of coffee and surreptitiously took a look at the man seated opposite her, regretting it immediately. Her hand trembled and she laid the cup back on the saucer, spilling some on her yellow dress.

Mycroft, cutting into his sandwich, had returned her glance with a tilt to his head and a cocked eyebrow.

([after a quarter hour of companionable silence]) 

“I can recommend you to the director, if that would help?” Mycroft said softly, as he sipped his Earl Grey.

Molly gripped her phone hard trying to decode the words. Finding nothing but honesty she looked up into eyes blue as the summer sky awaiting a reply.

Confused, Molly swallowed, placed her phone on the table, wiped her palms on her jeans and took a bite of her croissant.

“It would be easier if you have an agenda written out. Or simply explain the nature of your interest,” Mycroft explained, after a prolonged silence; which was but a minute later.

Molly cleared her throat to speak, swallowing fast and coughed, her mouth dry. Sipping the now tepid coffee, she breathed hard and flushed red.

Mycroft signalled the waiter for water.

“Drink the water,” he said, watching Molly try and control the hacking.

Swallowing half the bottle, Molly sat back holding the bottle with both hands on her lap.

* * *

Molly sat back trying to figure out what it was about Mycroft that unnerved her so much. She knew why Sherlock made her a bumbling mess! Smiling fondly Molly gently caressed the bottle with one hand.

The older Holmes was neither menacing nor unkind. _Neither_ was he warm or inviting, she scoffed to herself. _Who_ was? Unless they wanted something from her ..

“Miss Hooper. If you feel that I am trying to take advantage of you,” Mycroft paused, reconsidering the statement, then continued after clearing his throat, “that I feel guilty about last night, then you are not as clever as my brother considers you to be.”

Molly stared at him, eyes that seem to have turned into a shade of sea-green. Sipping some more water she said, “It’s just odd.”

Very rarely was the Ice Man struck dumb; and Molly Hooper seemed to do it quite often. Trying to find a suitable response Mycroft grimaced but was saved by Molly, who said, “You never go out of your way to help someone; unless of course that someone is Sherlock.” she added after a pause.

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, Mycroft sat back to hear more.

“I suppose you’ve guessed,” wrinkling her brow she carefully corrected herself, “deduced the purpose of my visit.”

Mycroft tilted his head nonchalantly.

“I cannot think of a reason for the written proof.” Molly sat staring at her plate, feeling the intensity of Mycroft’s stare; it made her feel naked. Huddling into herself she gripped the bottle hard.

Taking a deep breath the Ice Man said coldly, “It is for official purposes; not to convince me.”

* * *


	4. Unappreciated Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly dines out ..

###  **_Chapter 4 - Unappreciated Friendship_ **

#####  _ [much later in the evening] _

Molly was so engrossed in her notes that when the attendant came to ask her if she needed any refreshments she glanced at the time and realised it was close to evening. Taking her leave, she settled in the canteen with pasta and coffee.

Going through her notes, her exhausted mind refused to cooperate. Keeping it aside, Molly looked at the now cold pasta. Mind not permitting to waste it she downed the pasta with coffee and on an impulse went in search of the Museum Director’s office.

“I’m sorry to be a bother,” she addressed his PA. “I need to contact Mr. Holmes urgently. Could you provide me with an address?”

Half an hour later Molly stood outside the Hotel Wester Ross portico. 

The doorman watched her curiously; Molly thought, ready to throw her out if she approached. But he gave an indistinct nod towards the lobby with a raised eyebrow, made to open the glass door with his gloved hand when a car approached swiftly.

Molly jumped out of it’s way. 

The doorman rushed down the steps to attend to the Lady who slipped out of the Porsche in her pristine cream gown that gave no room for movement.

Molly stood close to the pillar behind a marble lion wondering how the woman could move so gracefully.

“I don’t have an appointment but need to see Mr. Holmes urgently,” Molly whispered then smiled shyly, when the lady and car had gone.

“Let me ask at the desk while you wait in the lobby?” the doorman said while opening the door for her with a hint of a smile.

Nodding her answer, her pony tail bobbing, Molly walked in and took a seat in the corner next to a book stand.

After 5 minutes the doorman approached her and whispered, “Mr. Holmes usually sits in the Hotel’s Library at this time. You could enter as a guest.”

Molly looked worried while saying, “But I’ve not been invited?”

“D’you think he’d throw you out?” the man asked, with a touch of humour.

“No,” Molly said, sighed, then rising from her seat accompanied him as he said, “This way ma’am,” down a corridor.

“Go on in. He doesn’t look like he’ll bite,” the doorman said.

Molly stood at the door to the library then turned to retort but realised that she was alone. Nervously twisting her ponytail she was about to take a step forward when her phone buzzed.

Sighing in relief she walked out of the quiet hall and checked her messages in the corridor.

######  **Where’s my report. GL**

“Oh, SHIT!” Molly swore, clapped her mouth with her left hand, then typed

######  **Sorry. On HL. MH**

Awaiting a reply, she heard a throat being cleared behind her and stuck herself to the wall with a “Sorry.”

“Miss Hooper,” the unmistakable voice behind her made her jump, the phone slipping from her hand.

Moving swiftly to recover it, her head clashed with the broad forehead of the Ice Man who had recovered the fallen phone.

“Here,” he said, holding out the phone, as Molly mumbled an apology again and then asked, “Would you like to join me?”

Molly sedately followed Mycroft down the corridor, then outside onto a terrace garden where there were a few tables scattered around, illuminated by candles. Walking to the farthest one, Mycroft pulled out a chair and waited. Molly fumbled to not make him wait, hit her knee on the leg of the wicker chair and plopped in while being deftly seated by the government official.

Taking the opposite seat that faced the door and the rest of the terrace, Mycroft steepled his fingers, resting his elbows on the chair’s armrests. His silent stare was like a command to speak.

“I,” Molly started, then stopped, unsure how to say what was on her mind.

What WAS on her mind? She wondered …

“Is there something I could help you with?” Mycroft asked, a kindness to his usual cold tone, a touch of warmth to his stern features.

Molly looked into eyes that were dark as a stormy night and could not find anything to say.

“Are you hungry?” he asked while signalling a waiter who was passing by.

Molly continued to stare, but her expression told him that she was confused.

“I am,” he said as he took the menu card from the waiter. “Wine?” he asked, more from politeness.

The waiter seemed to understand for in a minute he brought two glasses of white wine.

Molly rushed a “Thank you,” while meticulously pouring over the menu card.

Looking up she noticed a considerable change in the Ice Man who was thawing in her presence. Feeling embarrassed from the close attention he was paying her person she closed her eyes and sighed.

“May I order for you?” Mycroft asked, averting his eyes from the blushing pathologist.

Clearing her dried throat Moly replied, “Yes, please.”

Mycroft’s smooth French made her smile involuntarily, her eyes on the French names. Molly belatedly realised that there was no price listed. Probably all exotic dishes!

Looking up at the man seated opposite him, his left hand resting on the stem of the wine glass, the right gently smoothing the table cloth, she noticed the gold ring adorning those long fingers shine. Mesmerised, Molly sat in awe.

“I’m sorry for barging in on you. Didn’t mean to,” Molly said, placing the menu card on the side and grabbing her wine glass.

Taking a sip she spoke deliberately, “I simply wanted to thank you. Today was,” pausing she continued carefully, “It’s been one of the happiest days in my life.”

“I am happy to have been of assistance,” Mycroft said, “and,” he paused, “you are not imposing,” he continued, smiling softly, eyes twinkling in the candle light as he sipped the wine.

Molly stared, not recognising the Holmes she was so used to back in London. His eyes were dark, almost midnight blue, cheeks glowing like ripe tomatoes, lips glistening from the wine.

Her eyes glanced at the beard that made him look like a romantic hero from a Harlequin novel, not the Ice Man who ruthlessly wielded his power over criminals and politicians back in the real world.

Aware that she was being asked something, Molly concentrated on the voice and noticed that the waiter had arrived with their first course. She sat back and fidgeted with her napkin, chastising herself for getting carried away, like a foolish adolescent, when her phone buzzed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read it through quite a few times, not enough though.
> 
> Not beta read, so all mistakes are to my credit ....


	5. Unresolved Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly squirms as Mycroft scrutinises ..

**_Chapter 5 - Unresolved Tension_ **

Molly read the message after the first course, while the waiter cleared the table for the next. It was Lestrade. The report was crucial to a case and he wanted it ASAP.

“Trouble at work?” Mycroft asked unceremoniously while picking up his knife and fork.

Molly looked up from her typing, smiled hesitantly with a “Sorry,” and hurriedly typed, grimacing on making a typo.

“You seem to apologise quite often, Miss Hooper,” Mycroft commented while spearing a piece of meat.

“It,” Molly got distracted while sending the message, then looked up to see the Ice Man scrutinising her as if she were a book and he was turning the pages, reading her incoherent thoughts that were being unscrambled line by line.

“It’s a force of habit, I guess,” Molly stuttered as her fingers inattentively tried to enclose a fork making it slip and clatter to the floor.

Molly sat perfectly still embarrassed by her clumsiness, hoping that no one would notice. The waiter appeared by her side with a new fork.

“Perhaps you are cold?” Mycroft’s voice alerted her. She saw him rise and come towards her. She watched him closely unable to comprehend the action. His hands extended and she saw by her side the waiter had brought her wrap.

Mycroft took the wrap from the waiter and gently placed it around her shoulders. 

Molly hugged the ends tightly, biting her lip to hide the awkwardness that plagued her in such places. It was not the cold, although the weather _was_ cold!

“Don’t let the food get cold,” Mycroft warned, while taking his seat.

“Do you come here often,” she asked conversationally after a deep breath, trying to regain her lost appetite and confidence.

“Not often enough,” Mycroft answered. “Never with company,” he said as an after thought looking directly at her, finger tips resting on the table, drumming softly.

Molly lost her voice, unable to think. The words reverberated in her mind making her senses clouded. She mechanically ate, growing uneasy while Mycroft maintained silence, appearing withdrawn.

She didn’t know much about the man other than bits and pieces that Sherlock mentioned while in the lab.

As the dinner progressed the silence became deafening, Molly’s heart rate speeding. 

The desire to escape made her quite frantic when Mycroft addressed her quietly, “Would you like for me to drop you off at your place, Miss Hooper?”, while dabbing his lips with the red napkin.

Molly shook her head, a yes, then a no, cleared her throat and mumbled a “Thank you.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a bit lost with the chapter titles ...  
> not sure if they mean what i intend to ..  
> thinking of posting without titles ..
> 
> hoping to post two chapters today!


	6. Uncharacteristic Response

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise surprise - Molly doesn't realise the effect Mycroft has on her; while Mycroft's intentions are hidden ..

**_Chapter 6 - Uncharacteristic Response_ **

Molly spent the whole of next day in the museum and at closing time returned to her hotel. After a productive time, gathering all the data needed for her paper, she visited the cafe next to where she stayed.

Watching the sun’s setting rays brighten the pavement and silhouetting the shops, she grew restless. Not knowing why, she decided to take a walk while paying the bill.

With no direction in mind, she kept going straight ahead until it grew dark. Pausing, Molly looked around and realised she had reached the park where Mycroft had left her after the Museum incident.

The park was closed for the day. Molly walked past it, her mind in a haze. Sighing she turned around to walk back to her hotel when a car slowed down beside her. She recognised the colour and the shape. It had that vintage look, but she never could remember their names. The olive green seemed to go well with Mycroft’s sweater the night before, when he dropped her off after dinner she remembered and sighed unconsciously. Her mind was hazy from the memory.

Stepping down from the pavement Molly bent to look at the driver - it was a left hand drive, and she was right. There in a white shirt and pink sweater sat the older Holmes.

Mycroft bent over, rolled down the window and said, “Your last day in Scotland, Miss Hooper. Would you like a guide?” his face flushed making her wonder if it was just from the exertion.

Smiling softly Molly gave a nod and opened the passenger door. Getting in quickly she buckled the seat belt and looked at Mycroft who seemed to be watching her lost in thought.

“Anywhere in particular,” he asked, as if recollecting something.

“Not exactly,” she said, twiddling her hands. “Your choice,” she added and looked up into eyes that seemed grey as the sky before a storm.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanted to post the pic of Mark in the pink sweater ..  
> maybe later
> 
> and the one in green for the previous chapter ..
> 
> *sigh*  
> I HATE my internet!

**Author's Note:**

> This work has not been beta read, So, as always there will be too many mistakes that I'd rather not own to. I simply HAD to post it. It's been completed for almost 6 months and now that the net is working I'm posting as I've written. Apologies for muddling my Museums and places.
> 
> I've added a link to my tumblr post in the heading ..


End file.
